


Sticky Fingers

by mimsical



Series: [dcmk] promptfic, ficlets, and drabbles [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Flirting, M/M, On the Run, Partners in Crime, Post-Conan Kudou Shinichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimsical/pseuds/mimsical
Summary: While hiding from the Black Organization, Kaito and Shinichi find themselves having to cross what they once considered the limits on what they're willing to do to survive.
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Series: [dcmk] promptfic, ficlets, and drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728469
Comments: 17
Kudos: 201





	Sticky Fingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betenawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betenawr/gifts).



> prompted by betenawr!

Today, Kaito is a gorgeous young woman with glasses and heels that, he has told Shinichi in the past, help him remember the exact rhythm of how his hips should sway as he walks. His neckline is high, and the swell of his chest entirely fake, but it still makes his throat go dry when Kaito leans in close to whisper to him, looking up from under his eyelashes. 

“People notice a pretty girl,” he murmurs, resting a hand on Shinichi’s chest for just a second, ostensibly for balance. “See the guy by the doors? He put his wallet in his coat pocket a minute ago. He normally keeps it in his briefcase, I suspect, but he was a little preoccupied.” 

Preoccupied staring at Kaito’s ass, Shinichi thinks. It’s only sheer exposure to Kaito’s incessantly flirty nature that has managed to train him out of blushing. 

When the train pulls into the next stop, they relocate closer, moving with the influx of new riders to better positions. Shinichi grabs the same pole as the mark, hand resting right at pocket-level. Kaito doesn’t look at him again, but he can still feel the phantom heat of Kaito’s hand on his chest. 

He takes a deep breath. He hates this. Kaito doesn’t like it either; Shinichi knows he finds it frustrating, maybe even a little beneath him, going from the grand shows of his heists to snatching money for convenience store onigiri, but they agreed it was necessary. 

When they started, Kaito had picked pockets alone, weaving through crowds and collecting stray bills right and left. Shinichi knew he had done it to spare Shinichi having to be involved, but it had grated on him, knowing that he was supposed to pretend it wasn’t happening while someone broke the law on his behalf. So, eventually, he’d begun to play distraction for him. 

Doing the stealing himself is a new development, one that sits not nearly as uncomfortably as it should in his stomach. 

When the train moves, lurching with the initial movement, Kaito stumbles on his teetering heels. The mark gallantly steadies him, a brief moment of contact that sours in Shinichi’s chest even as he casually lets go of the pole long enough to unzip the man’s pocket. 

The first time he’d done this, he’d hesitated too long, and the mark had gotten away. Kaito hadn’t said a word, just taken his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Shinichi had wondered if he’d ever screwed up one of his early heists. Probably, though it’s hard to imagine now, with the poise and grace with which Kaito does everything. He can make brushing his teeth look like a dance, if he wants. 

This time, he has more practice, and the memory of Kaito’s precise calculations of how much money they still had and exactly what they would need for the coming days before their next move, their next disguises. He takes the wallet with a quick twist of his wrist, and the man settles back into his spot as Shinichi slides the wallet into his own pocket. 

At the next stop, they both get off, Shinichi with the slump of a tired office drone, Kaito with the swaying motions of a girl who knows just how pretty she is. 

“Your dexterity is improving, Meitantei,” Kaito says, voice crooning directly into his ear even though they’re at least a meter apart. “Shall we?”

Shinichi can’t reply, so he just rolls his eyes and follows the red-auburn of Kaito’s wig towards a corner with a trash can. Everything is busy, a press of people in the station heading in every direction, and nobody will notice a thing. 

Kaito snags the wallet from him and strips it quickly and neatly before dumping everything that won’t be useful in the garbage. When they make eye contact, Kaito’s expression transforms into something rueful but reassuring. “You did well.” 

Shinichi blows out a tired breath. “Thank you. Do we need to do another, or are we heading back?” 

“We can go.” Kaito slides into his space, inappropriately close, and offers him a quick flash of a more genuine smile. “I have a draft of an idea I want your opinion on before I do anything with it.” 

Shinichi steps back, feeling winded despite having been still. “Let’s go, then.” 

They aren’t far from the tiny, run-down apartment that has been their most recent hideout. The building is scheduled for demolition at the end of the year, giving its tenants time to find new places to live, and leaving several empty apartments that Kaito has taken the liberty to borrow from. They don’t have a key, but Kaito’s been teaching him to improve his lock picking skills. It’s going unnervingly well. 

In the relative safety of their appropriated room, Kaito loses the wig and heels with a relieved noise that settles like physical touch in him. Shinichi is a little slower to shed his disguise, folding away his bulky overcoat with his tie in its pocket and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Kaito, still in his high-necked blouse and short skirt, dances away in stockinged feet, ignoring his house slippers in favor of rooting around in their supplies. 

“Can I have the money to put with the rest?” Shinichi requests, changing his disguise’s slacks for his favored pair of athletic pants with only a little self-consciousness. 

“Sure, sure,” Kaito says absently, and reaches a hand into — into — he pulls the money out from presumably between the mounds of his fake chest. Shinichi takes the bills and tries very hard to ignore how they’re warm from being so close to Kaito’s skin. 

“Can you grab me a shirt?” Kaito requests, and Shinichi glances over in time to see him fishing his padded bra out from under his shirt, leaving his blouse sagging around the suddenly empty space. 

“Yeah, no problem,” Shinichi says, and hopes Kaito doesn’t take note of how his voice comes just a little bit strangled. He picks up one of Kaito’s soft, long-sleeved shirts at random and hopes it’s relatively clean. 

“Thanks~!” Kaito’s blouse comes flying over Shinichi’s head to land in a crumpled heap in the corner. 

_Don’t blush,_ Shinichi tells himself. _You’ve seen him more nude than this, and it was fine._

When he looks, Kaito’s back is a smooth expanse of skin and faint scars, and something turns over in Shinichi’s stomach. Loneliness, perhaps? They’ve been on their own for quite some time now. 

“So, I’ve been thinking about that badge of your from when you were running amok with your Shounen Tantei-dan,” Kaito says, snagging the shirt from his hands and tugging it on. His hair pops out of the collar, reinvigorated into a wild mess from the rough handling. Shinichi’s fingers itch to coax it back into something like order; Kaito’s overly-tactile tendencies must be rubbing off on him. 

“What about it? The tracker?” 

“No, no, nothing that could get turned back on us so easily. The communication device hidden as something innocuous. Obviously, I’ve played with the idea before, but—”

“Oh, obviously, of course.” 

Kaito casts him an amused glance. “Hush, you. I wasn’t the greatest thief of the Heisei period for nothing, I’ll have you know.” 

“Didn’t take much more than a soccer ball to nearly topple you.” 

Kaito flicks his nose, not particularly gently. “Yes, and you put such a hole in my ego until I figured out you were just another idiot teenage detective throwing yourself at me, I’ll have you know. I’d much rather have been defeated by a peer than a child.” 

“I was not _throwing myself_ at you.” 

“You’re right, of course — you were throwing yourself _off_ things so I would have to come rescue you. My very own darling detective in distress.” Kaito sighs in happy reminiscence. “You were so cute when you viciously tried to tranquilize me in midair in a move that would surely have led to my tragic demise. That smirk when you pulled out a parachute… I should’ve known then that we were meant to be.” 

To his horror, Shinichi feels himself blush. “Shut up,” he mumbles, and Kaito cackles. “Tell me about your stupid plan.” 

Kaito smirks but lets it go. “It’s more of a backup plan,” he admits. “But I was thinking of making something small like that and planting it on one of your pet cops’ badges. Obviously they’re well-trained enough to notice, but — well, there are some ways to convince them to keep them. I imagine your Megure-keibu could be persuaded. Or, if you’d rather… Nakamori-keibu and I do have something of an understanding, and when it’s our lives at stake, I trust him to be able to keep it a secret.” 

Shinichi doesn’t reply for a long moment, and eventually Kaito touches his hand. 

“It’s only an idea,” he says quietly. “But if something happens to me, or if we need help in a hurry… I promised to help you, and I don’t intend to leave you alone.” 

The sudden swing from teasing to raw sincerity makes Shinichi dizzy. He finds himself staring at the waistband of Kaito’s skirt, how without the rest of the getup, he’s clearly just the young man Shinichi has spent the past months with. The one who, despite the bizarreness of it, has become… very dear to him. 

Kaito is still holding his hand, he realizes belatedly. Somehow, unlike usual, he isn’t flustered by having noticed. It feels nice. It feels like having someone at his back, someone he trusts to match him step for step, even when they’ve strayed so far over where most people would draw the line. 

“We should consider it,” he says finally. “Maybe Nakamori. He’s more used to your lawless ways, after all.” 

Kaito smiles, takes the words for the gentle ribbing Shinichi intended it to be. Something in his chest goes tight with an unknown emotion. 

“Fine by me.” Kaito knocks his head gently against his temple, and Shinichi flushes pink all over again. “Dinner, then?” 

“Sure,” Shinichi manages, and finds that once again, through sheer proximity to his mad, impossible mind, Kaito has managed to leave him utterly breathless. 


End file.
